


Var Bellanaris

by HisAsgardianAngel



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anders Positive, Awkward Cullen, Babies, Cullen Has Issues, Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Cullen Smut, Divine Leliana, Domestic, Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, F/M, Jealous Cullen, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Mabari, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Mages (Dragon Age), Minor Alistair/Female Warden, Minor Anders/Hawke, POV Cullen Rutherford, Parent Cullen Rutherford, Parent Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Sweet Cullen Rutherford, Warden Alistair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-12 21:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16003442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisAsgardianAngel/pseuds/HisAsgardianAngel
Summary: Inquisitor Tora Rutherford has been living a quiet life with her new husband and their Mabari, Biscuit, after the events of Trespasser. Life has been relatively quiet, living in the estate viscount Varric offered them in Kirkwall, where they have made their home. The couple struggles to find their place, mage and former templar, in the very city where the mage uprising began, and with a baby on the way and a new threat looming on the horizon, it looks like quiet retirement just isn't in the cards. When is it ever?





	1. 9:31 Dragon -Tora

 

            It had been a two-and-a-half-day trudge from the horrors of Denerim to the calm of Lothering, and my mind yet flashed and twisted from the staunch smell of Shem blood in my nose, caked into the pores of my trembling hands and matted to the tattered red locks that hung haphazardly before my wide and frightened eyes. All thought of breath had left my tired body, and my knees buckled as I all but crawled to the doors of the large Chantry before me. I was terrified, ashamed—ready for whatever torment Andraste would punish me with. I had lived but ten years in this unforgiving world, and I was not sorrowful of my imminent departure. No elven child—no knife ear would be spared here, of that I was certain, and I resigned to my fate as I felt my tiny body curl against the bloodied grass. I could move no further.

            I have no way of knowing how long I lay in that state, wishing for an eternal blackness that never took me—a mercy that I appeared undeserving of.  Whether it was hours or a mere matter of moments later, my ears were touched by a sweet voice that filled my shattered mind with images of the Maker. While I was sure I was hallucinating, the sweet Orlesian sound did not leave me, and when next I opened my eyes I was warm. A soft white fabric grazed my dirty skin, and the hands that belonged to it were pale and steady.

            I tried to roll onto my side to get a look at my savior, though the sweet sound chastised me, and bid me lay still. I could tell from the fabric that she must be a Chantry Sister, and tears stung my dark green eyes as I fought to find my voice. “You should have let me die, I am tainted by sin. This blood is not my own, and though I inflicted injury on none I do not weep for the bastards who died, and I would gladly watch them slain once more.”

            “Watch your mouth, young one.” Was all the voice said, and had I not been so distraught I might have thought it funny. Long I had walked from my alienage in Denerim, running from the only family I had ever known. Shem nobles had raped my cousin, Shianni, and my elder sister had made sure the walls of our home ran crimson in recompense. She was to be hung for her crimes against the Arl, and Shianni told me to run as far from the city as my legs were able to carry me. The Dalish in the Brecilian forest would protect me, she said, keep me out of human Circle Towers should my magic become known. However, I did not know the way, and I was too weak in my young age to make it further than here. I was lucky to have made it to Lothering at all.

            “Please do not send me back.” I whispered, reaching for her long sleeve as she tentatively washed the dried blood from my hair and face, allowing me my first glimpse of her delicate face. Her hair was red as mine own, and her blue eyes were both gentle and guarded. She smiled at me.

            “Back to where, love? The Alienage, I assume?”

            I nodded slowly, swallowing hard as I decided to trust her, against my better judgement. I had yet to meet a Shem I trusted, though she exuded such a pleasantness that I could scarcely help myself.  “Yes, Ser. I need to find the Brecilian forest…either that, or a merciful death. I appreciate your kindness, should you decide to grant me either.” I admitted softly. To my shock, she laughed.

            “The Brecilian forest? My, you are a long way from your destination. And just who would send their little girl that far alone, hmm?”

            “You ask too many questions.” I sighed, a slight frown curling at the corner of the pretty lady’s lips. She looked on me for a long moment, as if deciding what to do with me, before she finally spoke.

            “Tell you what. My name is Sister Leliana, I’m a long way from my home as well. I’ve not been in Lothering too long myself, and I know a motherless child when I see one. Why don’t you come home with me, no? I’ll get you cleaned up, and we will see where to go from there.” Her words were sincere, and I could see in her eyes that she lived a lonely, solitary life. This Sister had a past, her compassion for my plight made that clear enough. I chewed my lip for a moment, not in much position to decline her generosity.

            “I’m Tora. Aneth ara.”

            There was a twinkle in her crystal blue eyes, and she laughed once more. “There, now you’ve remembered your manners. Come, we mustn’t waste time, I do not know what hunts you.” She did not await my response nor my consent, and she scooped me easily into her surprisingly muscular arms.  

            Sister Leliana lived on the outskirts of the small village, not too far from the Chantry, but far enough to keep away from the other villagers, who were often unkind. Leliana believed she had been chosen by the Maker to help stop the coming blight—it came in a vision, she had said. I believed her, but even fellow sisters in the Chantry thought her to be mad. Perhaps that was why we got along as we did, in the weeks that she kept me as her own. Two outcasts, fending for themselves the best they knew how. I did well not to get attached; the Lay Sister was very good to me, and treated me as her own, but I was not an ignorant child. I knew she planned to abandon Lothering the moment she could get her hands around the Blight. And she did.

            She had fostered me a month when the night came. She had gone to the tavern for the night, as she sometimes did, and she had asked one of the friendlier girls that frequented the Chantry to look after me. She had dark hair, and kind eyes. Bethany was an apostate, like me, and I always felt comforted by her presence on nights such as these. She had survived eighteen years a devoted Andrastian without coming into contact with the Templars, and I knew that no harm would come to me while in her care.

            “Miss Bethany?” I asked, reaching on my tip toes to put the kettle on. She towered over me, very gently brushing tufts of ginger hair behind my ears as she took the pot from my small hands and sat it neatly on the stove.

            “Yes, dear?”

            “When do you think Sister Leliana will take me to the Dalish? I have to do as Shianni asked; I’m sure Papae will be looking for me.”

            Bethany’s brown eyes melted slightly, and her expression told me everything I needed to know. I wasn’t being taken to the Brecilian Forest. She evaded my question, going on about the dangers of the Blight as if I were too stupid to understand risk or death. I was unafraid of this Blight not because I was naive, but I had seen enough horror in the Alienage to sate my curiosity of the world. I did not care for hardship. If the Dalish could protect me from the Shemlen until my father could come get me, that was where I was going to go, no matter any danger. “It is likely to hit Lothering hard, Tora. Leliana would do well to take you with her when she goes.”

            “That does not answer my query. She may take me where she like, so long as I make it into the Forest.”

            Bethany shook her head, though there was a light smirk twitching at the corner of her lips. “Stubborn one, aren’t you? That forest is not safe. I have family in Kirkwall, you know, in the Free Marches. Surely there is a Dalish clan there, should we have to evacuate, you could just come with us.”

            I opened my mouth to retort but shut it again as the door to our home slowly creeped open. I frowned as my eyes fell on my friend, whose beautiful Chantry robes had been exchanged for splintmail armor. I knew well what this meant, and her sheepish smile added insult to injury. When I refused to meet her eyes, Leliana’s soft hands cupped my face and I felt her press a kiss into my hair. “Do not be sad, little one. I told you the Maker had a plan, no? I ran into someone who would very much like to see you.”

            See me? I braved a glance at her, confused, and as my eyes fell on the company she’d brought with her, my eyes immediately stung with tears. There was a tall ginger man, standing a bit goofily next to a slender Elven woman with fiery hair and dark eyes. When our eyes met, I ran toward the woman and flung my tiny arms around her waist as best I could.

            “Antanasia!” My voice cracked, nuzzling my face into her stomach as she tightened her embrace around me. She smelled like home, and my heart couldn’t help the peels of sobs that seized my lungs. I had thought her dead…I had…I couldn’t contain my joy.

            “Sister.” She hummed happily in response, ruffling my curls lovingly as the man at her side rose an incredulous eyebrow.

            “Tana, you failed to mention you had a sister. As heartwarming as I’m sure this is, we can’t take a baby to fight a Blight. What are we to do with her?”

            “I know that, Alistair. And no matter what Shianni might have said, we cannot take her into the Forest either. I am grateful to you, Leliana, for keeping her safe. I owe you a debt I can never repay. I beg of you, however, one last mercy. Is there anywhere you know of that we can take her? I will not take her back to the Alienage. Father has forbidden it.” Antanasia’s voice was quiet, but urgent, and fear tore through me at her words. I had just reunited with her, I didn’t want her to go.

            “Please…” I hated myself for the whimper that caught in my throat, and the one she called Alistair looked as if he pitied me. I hated that all the more.

            “Ir abelas, da’len.” She whispered, kissing the side of my tear-streaked face gently as she engaged in a hushed conversation with Leliana. She exchanged a knowing glace with Bethany, who gave a solemn nod as Leliana packed up the rest of her things. She tried to hug me, but I was hurt, and I recoiled just out of her reach. I knew what this meant. I hated Leliana for abandoning me and taking my sister with her. I hated them both. I will never know how she looked upon me, but I could hear sorrow in her voice as she spoke.

            “Bethany will take you home to her mother, Leandra. She knows how to protect apostates, Dalish or no she will keep you safe. I am so sorry I could not fulfill my promise.” When I didn’t respond I heard her sigh heavily, and the door creaked open once more. I regretted for years not telling neither her nor my sister that I loved them before they threw themselves to the Blight. But I was a petulant child, and I did not yet know how far my path would take me from them. It would be years before I even saw Ferelden again. In that moment, I hated my country, I hated Denerim, I hated Andraste. As I felt Bethany pull me against her bosom, I bitterly wished the Blight would swallow the entire wretched smear of land they called Lothering. I wanted the Shemlen to suffer. And that is the one thing I will truly regret for the rest of my life…for it came to pass.         


	2. 9:31 Dragon -Cullen

Authors note: Sorry about the all the backstory! I just wanted to get some of it out of the way, so when I began on Tora and Cullen living in Kirkwall everyone would be up to speed on all the connections between the Hero of Ferelden, Hawke, and my inquisitor. Thank you for baring with me, and I hope you enjoy.

            A purple haze enveloped me, taunted me. I had loved too gently, trusted too easily. I spent my entire childhood training for this moment, and yet I was not strong enough in will nor in body to combat the horrors within the Circle. It felt like mere moments ago that I had fancied her, the sweet and tender Apprentice from down the hall. Her hair had been a dark black, and her eyes as blue as the morning sky. Every night I prayed to the Maker, begging for Andraste to wipe the sinful way that I loved her from my heart. I knew my place…or I thought I did. Mages and Templars were _not_ to fraternize.

            My prayers were left unanswered. My heart continued to swoon at the way she whispered the Chant of Light before bed, and the kind way she made it her mission every morning to have long chats with the Tranquil, who she bitterly wished she could elicit some emotions in. I had never known a better mage, and I pitied that such a beautiful soul was trapped in a gilded cage. When Knight-Commander Greagoir had told me that I was the one that would have to slay her should her Harrowing go south, my stomach had twisted with anxiety. I had a duty to both Andraste and the Order, and no matter how I cared for her, I would have run my sword through her no questions asked if she had become an Abomination.

            There was no way that she could have known how relieved I was that she made it out alive, nor how devastated I was when she betrayed us all in the end. I did not know her punishment for aiding the Maleficar, but even then, she was the only thought keeping me from the brink of mental exhaustion. Love her as I did, need her in that moment that I did, I hoped that she had been killed for her crimes. This was _her_ fault. My brothers in arms were dead because _she_ let the blood mage go free, _she_ encouraged this behavior. Perhaps that had been the intent all along. Perhaps her kindness meant nothing, and she was just as much a snake as the filthy mages who now tore our home to pieces in their rampage.

            I had been a fool, I thought, to give in to the sin she washed over me. I had rationalized that love was an emotion that could not be touched by evil, and that justification in and of itself was both an indulgence of lust and a vulgar display of my own weakness. The blood of the Order, then, befell on me and my shortcomings. For that I could never forgive myself. Of all those who had stood against the mages, I alone stood untouched. My final punishment. It seemed for all the strength I lacked I had just enough to keep me there—to keep me alive and in this excruciating torture.

            I stood in their blood, my friends, my family…and in my magic prison, left with only my mind and the demons to torment me all I could think of was _her?_ I screamed aloud at the rage the very thought filled me with. I had been a fool to feel sympathy for their plight. The mages weren’t people they were monsters, and while I would later come to only hate myself further for the hatred I allowed to seep into my heart, my eyes were red with fury. I wanted them all dead, each and every last staff wielding demon in human skin.

            I was stuck in a cycle of these thoughts when I heard voices from down the corridor and hot tears welled in my eyes. I screwed them shut, fearful of what sights might be coming toward me this time. The demons had been plaguing me with visions for hours; horrific things danced before my eyes at all hours, and it was all I could do to keep a handle on my own sanity. I tried to steel my emotions, telling myself that it wasn’t real. There was only so many times I could see my elder sister Mia slaughtered before my eyes or witness multiple versions of myself become possessed by desire demons.  The false dreams were going to have to be more creative than that to break me, I thought, I wasn’t about to let these mages take my mind. I owed the Order that much.

            I felt my armor-clad hands tear at my blonde curls, unable to stop myself as I rocked back and forth in my corner of the prison. I could still see the lavender glow from behind my eyelids, and I wondered, as the heavy footsteps approached me further, whether I would ever escape from the Tower.  Whispers were at my ears, goosebumps crawling up my spine as I shook my head hard.

_They died because of you. You’re a failure. When I find that little Amell girl you find yourself so infatuated with, I’ll make her an Abomination too. Consider it a parting gift, Knight-Captain._

            “NO!” I shouted, cursing the affection for her that would not leave my cracked and bleeding heart no matter how much I pretended to loath her. The voices cackled at my cries, and I pounded my fists on the floor in agony. I could not take it any longer, and I leapt to my feet as I heard the footsteps stop before my cage. I forced myself to open my eyes, heart pounding in my chest as tears rolled down my cheeks and clung to my unruly beard. I was not going to let it win, not anymore.

            I was surprised when I didn’t recognize the figures the spirits had conjured before me, though I supposed it didn’t matter in the end. They could fool and control me no longer, I _would_ be strong enough to will them away this time. I snarled at the four figures, cursing them in the name of the Maker and bidding them leave. When they didn’t, my courage shrunk a little, but I stood my ground as the one in the front, the elf, rose an eyebrow at me.

            “The boy is exhausted, and this cage…I’ve never seen anything like it.” An old woman mage whispered this to the elf, as if I was not there to hear her, and I felt myself crumble to my knees. I was not strong enough to stand, my head ached, and the disembodied voices continued to distract me from those who stood before my eyes.

            “Enough visions! If anything within you is human kill me now and stop this game!”

            “He’s delirious, he’s been tortured and has probably been denied food and water. Here, I have a—” A red headed woman with a soft Orlesian accent approached the lavender wall and I flinched backward with a snare.

            “Do not touch me! Stay away! Filthy blood mages getting in my head…ugh…I will not break! I’d rather die.”

            The elf had sad eyes, like she had seen a lot, and she was in fact no mage. She pulled the Orlesian back and took her place, and for whatever reason I allowed her movement. She observed me for a moment, as if she couldn’t decide what to make of me, and she nodded once at the ginger warrior who stood at her side. “We will get you out of here, I promise.”

            “Silence! I’ll not listen to anything you say, don’t blame me for being cautious…the voices…the images are so…real.” I sounded pathetic, and as I wobbled back up to my feet I refused to meet the woman’s gaze. I was so utterly ashamed of myself and the man that I had become.  “Look at what the mages have done to the Tower. They deserve to die, Uldred most of all. They caged us like animals, looked for ways to break us. I’m the only one left. They turned themselves into monsters and there was nothing I could do.” My explanation seemed to suffice, and she had a resolve about her, like she was someone who could get things done. I liked that…it soothed my anxiety if only a little.

            “Alright then. If it is this Uldred who has done this to you, to the mages, then we will make sure he pays for his actions.” I blanched instantly at her words, the rage refilling my chest quicker than I could get a hold of.  She pitied _the mages_? It was the bloody mages who _made_ this mess! I threw my hands up in the air angrily and scoffed.

           “And to think I thought we were too hard on them. Only mages have this much power at their fingertips, only mages are so susceptible to the infernal whisperings of the demons.”

            The old mage wrinkled her nose in disgust at my words and I bit back the bile in my throat that rose as I looked on her. I’d have spat in her face if there had not been a cage between us. She dared open her mouth to chastise me, though the elf shot her a look. “This is a discussion for another time. Irving and the other mages who fought Uldred, where are they?”

            I did not want to answer her, but I knew that killing Uldred was my only way out of this torment. I had little choice but to entrust the information to the strange party and pray that the Maker have mercy on me. Mercy that I in no way deserved. “They are in the Harrowing Chamber. The sounds coming out from there…oh, Maker.” It was half a plea for them to not put themselves in danger, to not open the door. As much as I wanted out, I didn’t need more blood on my hands. Alas, I knew this adventurer would not leave me here, and all of me was grateful.

            The wizened mage spoke again. “We must hurry, they are in grave danger, I’m sure of it.”

            “You can’t save them! You don’t know what they’ve become!” I didn’t recognize the vile tone of my own voice, they pure unadulterated malice behind my words. It both frightened and disgusted me, though in the moment it felt entirely justified.

            “We can’t just kill them all.” The elf affirmed softly, and while this I knew to be true, I hated that I could not avenge the good men I had lost. The good men the _Order_ had lost. I opened my mouth to respond, when the ginger man spoke for the first time.

            “His hatred of mages is so intense…the memory of his friends’ deaths is still fresh in his mind.” Finally, someone with some sense.

            “You have to end it now before it’s too late! Are you really saving anyone by taking this risk? To ensure this horror is ended, to guarantee that no Abominations or blood mages live, you must kill everyone up there.” I knew even as I said these words that it was not up to me. This fight was out of my hands, and so was my own fate. In the end, as I write this, I am pleased that it was so. I would not have allowed a single mage in the Tower to live, and it is something that would have haunted me far more than any tortures the demons conjured that day.

            “Killing innocents because they might be Maleficarum is not justice. I know you are angry—”  

            “You know nothing,” I spat, a scathing wrath shaking my entire being as I trembled in my inability to calm my nerves. “I am thinking of the future of the Circle, of Ferelden! I would love to deal with the mages myself.” Blood would have run from the very walls if I had had my way. The elf smiled at me in a way that was far kinder than I deserved, as did the Orlesian. They pitied me, their looks said it all. They wanted to prove me wrong and go on some grand crusade to save the mages from themselves. So be it.

            “Maker turn his gaze on you. I hope your compassion hasn’t doomed us all.” That was the last thing I said to her before she and her companions kicked down the door to the Harrowing chamber and slew Uldred where he stood. I would later find out that my Elven savior was in fact the Hero of Ferelden, ender of the fifth Blight…sister to the mage that was to become my wife. I would become thankful that she didn’t slaughter those mages, I would hate myself for allowing the Circle to degrade an entire subclass of human beings into something less than animals in my mind. But then, in that moment, I was incapable of seeing beyond my own afflictions, and the mental wounds would yet scar me for over a decade to come.

            I was unable to work within the Towers walls after that. My mind was weak and my spirit broken, and I couldn’t get a handle on the anger inside me. I snapped, killing three Apprentices under my watch due to a nervous breakdown I suffered during their Harrowing. Greagoir could not publicly keep me there after that, though I believe he pitied me too much to strip me of my rank entirely. I was transferred to Kirkwall, what seemed a million miles away from my home, and my hatred for magic only deepened under the firm and tyrannical hand of Knight-Commander Meredith.  

**Author's Note:**

> Characters belong to Bioware.


End file.
